twin chaos

chapter 4

The rain had been falling since midnight, washing over the slick cobblestones of the estate district. I shouldn't have gone back to Saint Jude's after hours, but I had left my heirloom emerald ring—the only thing tying me to my family's hidden legacy—in the senior lounge during the chaos of the previous afternoon.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the east wing. The school was quiet, dark, and hollow, smelling faintly of floor polish and old paper.

As I walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the private student lounge, muffled laughter echoed through the silence. A girl's sweet, mocking giggle paired with a low, familiar voice.

My feet froze. My hand hovered over the brass door handle.

I pushed the door open just an inch.

Sitting on the leather couch near the dark fireplace was Jeremiah. And wrapped around his shoulders, her lips pressed against his neck, was Vanna.

A sharp, painful gasp escaped my throat before I could stop it.

Jeremiah pulled back, his head snapping toward the door. Vanna didn't look startled at all; a slow, victorious smile spread across her face as she rested her chin on Jeremiah's shoulder.

"Look who came crawling back," Vanna purred, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. "Lost your way, little ghost?"

"Jeremiah..." My voice was barely a breath, sounding pathetically weak in the empty room. "How could you? After everything..."

Jeremiah stood up, casually shoving his hands into his blazer pockets, his face cold and unbothered. "I told you yesterday, Aurelia. You don't belong in my world. Vanna actually knows how to stand by my side. You're just a broken, pathetic embarrassment."

"It was all a game to you, wasn't it?" Tears burned my eyes, but for the first time in months, grief turned into a sharp, desperate rage. "You used me! My family gave you everything, and you threw me to the wolves!"

I stepped forward, my hands shaking as I reached for the desk where my ring sat. "Give me my ring. I'm leaving."

"Oh, you want this old thing?" Vanna chuckled, stepping between me and the mahogany desk. She picked up the heavy, emerald-crested ring, twirling it between her manicured fingers. "You don't deserve nice things, Aurelia. You don't deserve anything."

"Give it back!" I cried, lunging forward to grab it from her hand.

"Get off her!" Jeremiah barked, stepping in and shoving me back violently.

I stumbled over the edge of the heavy rug, losing my footing completely. My back slammed hard against the sharp edge of a marble display pedestal. A heavy, antique brass trophy sitting on top wobbled, then tumbled down, catching the side of my forehead with a sickening, heavy impact before I crashed onto the hardwood floor.

Pain exploded behind my eyes—sharp, blinding, and absolute.

I lay on my side, cold air rushing into my lungs as a dark, warm liquid began to pool on the floor beneath my cheek. Through my blurring vision, I saw Vanna drop the emerald ring next to my face.

"Let's go, Jeremiah," Vanna whispered, her voice laced with sudden panic. "She's bleeding. Let's get out of here before someone sees us."

"She brought it on herself," Jeremiah muttered coldly.

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut. Their footsteps echoed away, leaving me alone in the dark.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The rhythmic, sterile sound of a heart monitor was the first thing that reached my senses. The smell of bleach and antiseptic filled my lungs. I slowly cracked my eyes open, the bright fluorescent lights of the private hospital room burning my vision.

Oxygen tubes rested beneath my nose. My mother was sitting in the corner, her face buried in her hands, softly weeping while my father stood by the window, staring out into the dark night with a look of quiet, dangerous stillness.

And then, I turned my head toward the shadows at the foot of my bed.

Standing there, dressed in a sharp, pitch-black coat, was a girl with my exact face.

Ophelia.

My twin sister—the dark, fierce secret our family kept hidden from the world. The girl who never smiled just to make others comfortable.

She wasn't crying. Her pitch-black eyes were fixed entirely on my bandaged head, my bruised face, and the quiet agony written across my features. A cold, terrifying stillness settled over her expression—a look I knew better than anyone. It was the look of a storm gathering its power, absolute and unyielding.

Ophelia stepped closer to the edge of the bed. She leaned down, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from my pale forehead, and looked straight into my eyes. She didn't have to say a word. The dark promise in her eyes said everything.

They are going to pay for every tear you shed.

For the first time in months, the heavy, suffocating darkness inside me lifted just a little. I closed my eyes and let out a quiet, trembling breath.

I couldn't wait to watch her tear their world apart.